


Scars of a Nightmare

by impish_nature



Series: Brand of a Dreamer [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Reconciliation, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5232752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Brand of a Dreamer. Chapters will be one-shots based after the events.</p><p>Ford and Stan have made it out of the mindscape. But there are still some issues that have to be dealt with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nightmare Fuel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the summary is a bit vague, I didn't want to give it away ;p
> 
> And look who is already back with this fic? I didn't even mean to but this idea has been in my head for a while so here you go.
> 
> Oh! Also I've diverged a bit from canon. Aka the apocalypse is not happening on the last day of summer - the kids have a week in this fic to settle down after everything that happened, just because otherwise it'd be super rushed.

“ _Please, Sixer, did you really think it’d be that easy?”_

Ford glared at the yellow demon, the rift still growing wider in the sky above them. He could see his brother in his peripheral, his clenched fists together in anticipation of the showdown. As much as he wanted to join in Stan’s mirth he knew this was going to be a tough battle and now wasn’t the time to get cocky. “We’ve gotten rid of your lackeys, Bill, it’s just you left.”

“Yeah so why don’t you scram while you have the chance, triangle?”

Bill heaved a sigh, shaking himself side to side, his expression still bemused at them both. “ _Boys, boys, boys. When will you learn? Things just aren’t that simple.”_ He glowed red, his expression darkening. _“So, how about we make this a bit more interesting?”_

Ford took a step back as the demon vanished, spinning around to check all around them when he didn’t re-materialise. “Stan, we need to stay focussed, keep an eye o-”

A familiar cackle behind him sent ice down his spine. He turned back slowly, his movements sluggish and heavy. His eyes widened, his heart in his throat at his brother stood watching him pensively. Yellow eyes and a twisted grin distorting the familiar face.

“What’s the matter, Sixer? Didn’t think this into your equations?”

“Get out of him.” Ford growled, his gun pointed at the demon possessing his brother. The yellow slitted eyes gleamed darkly at him as if challenging him to do it.

“Oh come on, Fordsy. We both know you wouldn’t shoot him.” Bill crowed from inside Stan, raising his hand to glance at it, leaning on his familiar cane as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He looked over Stan’s glasses at him, his eyes curious. “How about if I told you killing the host while I was inside would kill me too. Would you do it? _Could_ you do it? Save the world but kill your brother.” He whistled excitedly. “Now that I’d like to see, Sixer.”

“How are you doing this?” Ford spat out, the hand holding the gun shaking, betraying his steady voice. “He didn’t make a deal with you. You shouldn’t be able to do this.”

“As I said, did you really think it’d be that easy?” Bill slipped Stan’s knuckledusters off, deposited all other weapons on the ground before touching his shoulder. “I came in through here, of course.”

Ford’s shaking increased. He shifted his stance, grabbing his gun in both hands to try and steady his nerves. But he already knew that the movement was futile.

He couldn’t fire at his twin. Even if he _was_ possessed.

_Not now, I can’t lose him now. This can’t be happening!_

The sigil had been destroyed, the mark unusable. At least that’s what he’d hoped the sudden extra line had meant. Ford’s mind cast around for any way to push the demon out of him. To bring him back.

“Tick tock, Sixer.”

_Wait haven’t we already prevented the apocalypse?_

Ford stood up straight, confused at the thought that had just popped into his head. Time seemed to slow as he did so, his frown deepening as the demonic presence suddenly had nothing more to say. “What is this? What’s going on?” Now that the thought had come through, memories flitted in with it. This battle had already happened, the kids had been with them, fighting alongside them even though they’d tried to get them to the safety of the shack with the other townspeople. Why weren’t they here now? He glanced around, trying to pinpoint them but it was just him and Stan in an empty field, one that he now recognised from his mindscape whenever Bill entered it.

Why were they fighting here of all places?

The rift suddenly sparked brightly making Ford turn his head away, one arm up to shield himself from it. When he opened his eyes again, the world was darker. “What on earth?”

“Ford? Ford, help me!”

Ford’s arm dropped quickly, finding himself in a darkened alley that he’d never seen before. The moon was high in the sky, lighting the area around him in a silvery glow.

His stomach plummeted, his legs running before he’d even completely processed the situation.

Stan was being dragged further away from him by two men, his arms held tightly behind him. His expression was terrified, a trickle of blood running down his temple as he struggled in their grip. His movements were lethargic however, his whole demeanour slightly dazed from whatever he’d been hit with.

“Ford!”

“I’m coming.” Ford panted, sprinting at full pelt and yet he couldn’t get close to them. A voice in his head yelled at him that they were only walking away, why couldn’t he catch up? But the floor beneath him seemed to fall away like sand and he just kept tripping and stumbling in his haste to just _move forward_.

His heart rate skyrocketed when he saw the car they were dragging him towards. The trunk open and ready, a dark hole that Ford was afraid to look too closely into.

_No, no, no. Not again. I won’t let it happen to you again. I promised!_

“Don’t let them, Ford, please!” Stan was being pushed inside, his arms stretched out to Ford and struggling with all his might to keep from being locked inside.

“I won’t, I won’t. Stan, don’t give up on me. Just a little more.” Ford propelled himself forward again, feeling the burn in his muscles as he pushed them passed their limits. He was so close, a few more seconds that was all he needed.

The trunk shut with a snap of its own accord, Stan’s screams cutting off along with it.

 

* * *

 

“Stan!”

Ford jolted upright, a shuddering breath ripping through him. He blinked in the darkness, flicking on the lamp beside his bed with shaking fingers and heaving a sigh of relief at his normal surroundings. He ran a hand through his hair, gripping almost painfully tightly as reality crashed back through him. “J-just a dream. That’s all. Just a nightmare, calm down. Everything’s fine.” He took deep breaths, counting out the seconds in his head.

But his heart rate wasn’t slowing down.

His hands dropped, gripping the duvet tightly. The light should be calming him, the familiar touches and sights should be steadying his on edge nerves. He’d woken up like this before, on the other side of the portal for god sake! Nightmares were nightmares, he knew how to banish them once he woke up. You couldn’t dwell on these things when something out there in the real world could be getting ready to attack you.

So why couldn’t he shake the feeling of dread from this one?

Ford grabbed his glasses from the bedside cabinet and slipped out of bed as quietly as possible. He was glad his room was on the ground floor, he didn’t want the twins suddenly appearing to see what all the noise had been about. He crept out of the room, skipping the creaky floorboards as he went. He needed some fresh air that was all, he’d stand outside for a minute and then feel relaxed enough to go back to sleep.

His feet had other plans.

Ford shifted from foot to foot awkwardly as he found himself outside Stan’s bedroom without any conscious effort. He let his hand trail across the doorknob before retracting it and repeating the process. He let his head thud softly against the door, not wanting to wake the occupant but knowing deep down he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he’d checked up on him. “Just a peek. Just see that he’s sleeping peacefully and not…” He let the words trail off, not really knowing what he would expect otherwise. His nightmare was only a nightmare, there was no real threat.

Before he could let his thoughts spiral into self-depreciation for letting his nightmares get the better of him he turned the handle and opened the door a crack. He shuffled close before the handle escaped his grasp and the door swung open further with a loud groan.

He didn’t pay it any mind though, his eyes glued to the room.

Stan’s bed was empty.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as he left the door wide open and scurried back downstairs, unable to care about any noise he was making as he glanced into each room he came across.

“Sixer? What are you doing thumping around this late at night?”

Ford didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath until Stan poked his head out of the kitchen, eyebrow raised in annoyance at him. “I-I could ask you the same question?” He didn’t react to the nickname even as the nightmare came back full force at the word.

He wished he could punch the demon again for ruining the nickname his brother had given him all those years ago.

Stan’s other eyebrow raised in disbelief. “I’m not thumping around, I just came to get a drink. You’re gonna wake up the kids.” He looked Ford up and down before looking over his shoulder. “Did you just come from upstairs?”

“Uhh…” Ford felt his face start to heat up with embarrassment. He had no excuse for being upstairs, nothing he could think up on the spot and now that he’d seen his brother it all seemed so childish. “I was just…” His words fell flat at Stan’s gaze and his eyes drifted away from him. “I had a nightmare.”

“Oh.” Stan stood shocked for a moment at the confession. When it was clear that Ford wasn’t about to open up and was obvious embarrassed by it, he let it slide, not wanting to tease him. Hell, he knew what nightmares could be like. “You want a cup of tea?”

Ford’s head snapped back up. Why wasn’t he laughing? “Y-yes please?” He walked after Stan in a daze as the man gestured at him to follow and sat down at the table. He couldn’t help but give Stan’s back a look of disbelief as he grabbed camomile tea from the top shelf and started to boil the kettle.

“What?”

Ford tapped his fingers against the wood of the table, perplexed as Stan spoke but didn’t turn to him. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” There was a good humoured lilt to Stan’s voice. “I can feel your question from here.” He looked over his shoulder, a sheepish smile on his face. “This stuff always has a habit of calming me down after a nightmare.”

“Oh.” Ford nodded, relaxing at the reassurance that it wasn’t just him that got the jitters at night. He still cursed and jumped as the cup clacked on the table in front of him. “S-sorry.”

“Yeesh, that’s one stuck fast nightmare.” Stan sat opposite him, blowing on his drink. “So…did the kids go out on a monster hunt today?”

“Huh?” Ford cupped his hands around the drink, letting it warm him through while he pondered Stan’s question. “No, not as far as I know. I think the twins are a bit mystery’d out still.” Not that he blamed them. The apocalypse had dulled his own excitement at the anomalies of Gravity Falls.

“Heh, they’ll bounce back. I’ve already seen Dipper writing in a little notepad. Think he’s trying to write down what he remembers from your journals.” Stan smiled at his brother before setting his drink down. “So if it’s not those two running around after mysteries that could get them hurt…what caused the nightmare, Ford?”

Ford raised his head, resting it on the palm of his hand before scoffing. “Can’t I just have nightmares?”

“Well yeah, but everything’s over, we beat it.” Stan shrugged, wincing as the action pulled at his shoulder a bit. “I mean yeah nightmares are nightmares, you can’t control that, but if you wake up and know everything’s fine then surely that’s the end of it.” He pointed at him, eyes narrowing. “So whatever it was is still worrying you, so spill.” Silence met his words so he took a sip of his drink to mask his nervousness, grimacing when it was still too hot. “Or you know…don’t if you don’t want to. I won’t force it.”

Ford fidgeted, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of Stan’s shoulder when he winced. “Does it still hurt?” His whisper echoed through the otherwise quiet room and he couldn’t help but feel idiotic for voicing his thoughts.

“A little bit but that’s to be expected. I didn’t exactly stop to take a break after you wrapped it up.” Stan looked down at his still bandaged shoulder, it was healing a lot faster this time round what with three attentive family members keeping an eye on every pained expression. He raised an eyebrow, connecting some of the dots. “Is that what this is about? Please don’t tell me you had a guilt dream.” His eyes widened as he caught on further. “You were upstairs. Were you checking on me?”

Ford opened and closed his mouth a few times before the words finally came out. “I-it’s not like that.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to think things through. “I mean, kind of.” He held up a hand when Stan went to speak. “Wait a minute. I just meant that it was about your shoulder and well…Bill still being able to get to you.” The words came out in a fast tumble, like the quicker he said them the less they’d have to actually talk about it.

“But-”

“Yeah, I know. Stupid, right? The sigil shouldn’t work anymore.” Ford shrugged, not looking Stan in the eye. “Doesn’t mean I’m not worried though. If I could just test the theory to make sure…”

“And how exactly would you do that?” Stan gave him an incredulous look before sitting back. “I get it but, what can you do? No use worrying over it. Besides, if Bill could do something like that, don’t you think he would have when we went to fight him?” He waited for a response but none came. “Oh…was that the nightmare?”

“Yeah…most of it anyway.” Ford swallowed, wondering if he should say more. But he’d opened up this much, might as well go the whole way. And if he was honest, he was hoping for a few answers in return. “But then it changed. And you were-” The image flashed before him again and he stuttered to a halt, biting the inside of his mouth.

“Poindexter, stop getting caught up in that head of yours. I’m right here, safe and sound.” Stan leant forward for a second, rapping his knuckles on Ford’s head before sitting back. He spread his arms wide in a dramatic display to get Ford to laugh. It succeeded enough to get him a grin at least as he rubbed his head.  “Now just say it so I can prove that your dream was bogus and we can both settle down again. We’ve got kids to look after and you know full well Mabel’s energy levels are at 110% as soon as she’s up. I’d rather not deal with a headache on top of that.”

Ford chuckled anxiously, his fingers tapping on the table again before he just let the words fall out between them. “I dreamt you were inside that car trunk again and I couldn’t help y-”

“Okaaaay.” Stan drew the word out, his face suddenly closing off. “I’m sorry I asked.”

Ford recoiled at the sudden change in atmosphere, the room growing icier by the second. He continued regardless. “I know you might not want to talk about what I saw in your mind, Stan but-”

“ _Ford._ ”

His mouth shut with an audible snap, waiting patiently for Stan to make the next move. The silence stretched out until he couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry. Ignore me. Just a dumb dream.”

Stan loosened his grip on the mug he’d been slowly crushing. He gave a small sigh, giving his brother a pained expression. “No, it’s fine just- not with the kids still here, alright? I don’t want to risk them hearing anything.”

Ford relaxed considerably at his words, his muscles losing their tension as he sunk back into his seat. “So you wouldn’t mind talking about it?”

“I’m not going to say it will be a pleasant conversation.” Stan frowned, staring over Ford’s shoulder as if seeing something else. “But I guess I owe you an explanation.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

Stan blinked back into the present at his words, a small sad smile on his face. “Anyway, why on earth are those things what keep you up at night? Bet you have a lot worse memories of your own from the other side of the portal.”

“Do you have nightmares about that?”

Stan felt his eyes lock with his brother’s, a serious expression on his face in contrast to his own locked up smile. “Huh.” His face relaxed, his thoughts ponderous. “Guess you’re right. That’s what they were about. Until I got you back that is.” He wasn’t going to add to that, but seeing Ford shift so uncomfortably before him and admit to his nightmares made his tongue loosen. “Then I guess they changed. Kept dreaming that I was opening the portal but you weren’t coming through.”

“You didn’t feel the need to come down and check?”

Stan snorted, laughing at Ford’s confused expression. “I didn’t need to Poindexter, I’d get downstairs to the vending machine and hear you clattering down in that lab of yours. No need-” Stan bit his lip before he continued the sentence.

No need to start any arguments.

“But yeah I get the sentiment.” Stan started up again before Ford could get a word in. “And I won’t be annoyed if you knock on my door after a nightmare. Just, please knock? I might throw something heavy at you otherwise. Or punch you.” Stan shrugged. “Depends how far into the room you get before I wake up, I guess.”

“Yeah, I’d rather not get attacked, thanks.” Ford laughed along with him, nodding in agreement as he took the last sip of his drink. He could feel the tug of sleep again now that his fears had been dispelled. It helped that Stan had treated him like an adult still and even given him an option if the nightmares struck again.

“Get back to bed, Nerd. Your back will kill if you fall asleep there.”

“Yeah.” Ford stifled a yawn, standing up and rubbing under his glasses. “Night, Knucklehead and thanks.” His words were starting to muffle with sleep and he couldn’t even bring himself to feel chagrined at the events anymore.

“Yeah, yeah, just get going before you don’t make it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna assume it became obvious for people that it was a dream quite quickly XD But even with things flitting and jumping about in dreams it's sometimes really hard until you wake up to go 'what the hell brain?' so yeah, that's why Ford didn't clock on.
> 
> Ok so I have 2 more ideas for these one shots at the moment~
> 
> The third is obviously the heart to heart people have been hoping for ;p
> 
> I'm up for taking some ideas though ^^


	2. Family Ties - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not meant to be what it turned into XD   
> More sappiness between the brothers x now with added Mabel and Dipper!  
> I hope its ok and you like what feels like rambling fluff to nowhere in my opinion ^^;;

“Why are you so jittery all of a sudden?”

“Am I not allowed to be?”

Ford frowned as Stan rearranged the already impeccably clean kitchen yet again. In general the house was cleaner than he’d ever seen it and it had taken all of his efforts to not get Stan to clean and get rid of some of his attractions at the same time.

He didn’t want to scare the people that were arriving before they got the chance to talk to them and getting rid of the familiar backdrop of exhibits might do that.

“Stan, everything’s going to be fine. I’m looking forward to finally meeting them actually.” Ford smiled, trying to be reassuring but Stan carried on straightening papers on the table as if he hadn’t heard him. He sighed, shaking his head. “ _Stan_ , she let you keep the twins for the last week of summer after the god damn apocalypse. She trusts you with them.”

Stan finally stopped, turning to him. His cane was bearing the brunt of his fidgeting now, his hand periodically tightening around its top as he tapped it to the ground. Shermy and their niece were finally making the trip up to Gravity Falls to collect the kids and as much as he loved them he was slowly descending into a panic. “Yeah well, they’re coming up in a few hours to spend the night and ‘ _chat_ ’ before they leave with the kids.” He air quoted the word as he leant back against the cupboard.

Ford tried not to let his face fall, even at the confusion he felt at the sudden change of heart. They’d both been confident about this earlier. “We’ve been through that though, Stan, lots of times. Exactly how we’re going to explain everything to them.” He mirrored Stan’s body language, leaning a lot more relaxed against the wall opposite him in contrast to Stan’s rigidity. “It’s a fool proof plan if I do say so myself.”

Stan snorted, a small smile breaking through his panic. “And there lies the problem.”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“Neither of us are fools.”

Ford blinked for a second at his words before laughing. “Well, I can’t argue with that.” He shifted, getting more comfortable, looking over at Stan. “So what part of the plan is bugging you?”

Stan deflated a little bit, shrugging. “I dunno. That we’ll even get the chance to explain any of it? I feel like they’re gonna take one look in, see the pair of us and high tail it out of here again.” He looked over at Ford, biting his lip. “I kind of _have_ been lying for 30 years. That’s hardly a good foundation, is it?”

“The twins accepted it.”

“They’re kids, they’re a lot more forgiving. Their mum gets to make the decision as to whether they come back or not.”

“Grunkle Stan, are you really worried about that?”

The pair jumped, spinning to find the younger twins standing in the doorway of the kitchen, identical looks of shock on their faces.

“Oh, hey kids. You all packed up?”

Ford couldn’t help but be in a small amount of awe as Stan’s demeanour changed in one swift shift, the easy grin and relaxed posture quickly reappearing as soon as he noticed the kids were with them. It was a bit late, Ford knew that much even as Stan tried for denial first but he felt a small twinge of illogical happiness go through him. Stan had opened up to him and was only hiding things in front of the kids now, a contrast to what he would have done a few weeks ago.

“Grunkle Stan.” Dipper’s face was set in a deeply serious expression that Ford found amusing. It was the exact same expression he’d given him on finding out they had to solve the apocalypse. “Mum’s known you, like, her entire life. She spent her own summers up here as a kid, she told us all about them before we came. You meet up with everyone without fail every year. I don’t think that’s going to change now, especially once we explain it all.”

A pang of wistfulness went through Ford at Dipper’s words. At everything he’d missed out on.

It must have shown on his face because Dipper turned to him, suddenly distressed, his words hitting a higher pitch. “Not that that means she won’t want to meet you Grunkle Ford! It’s not your fault you were trapped in the portal-” His words stuttered to a halt, his gaze sweeping back to Stan in concern. “Not that-”

“ _Dipper_.” Mabel elbowed him, rolling her eyes and making him close his mouth quickly. “You know the conversation we had about when it’s a good time for you to just stop talking?”

“Right, yep, shutting up now.”

Mabel grinned, taking over as she stepped into the kitchen. “What Dipping sauce should have said was well, we’re teenagers now.” She puffed out her chest, hands on her hips, not noticing the confused looks she got from all three of the room’s other occupants at her sudden change in conversation. “So we get to make our own decisions now! And I want to come here every holiday!” She cackled, pointing at Stan with enough force he shuffled back, hands up in a gesture of defeat. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I don’t want see you every holiday, you’ll eat me out of house and home! I’m still cleaning out that awful stuff you call Mabel juice from my blender!” Stan mocked back, batting her away with his cane when she tried to get closer.

Mabel turned her attention to Ford when it was obvious Stan’s jovial mood had returned. “Besides, mum and Grandad have to deal with us the entire way home telling them how amazing our summer has been.” She pulled out a load of drawings she’d done in her scrap book, presenting them with triumph to the scientist, who crouched down and looked them over with utter bafflement. He had definitely not been smiling when he came through the portal as Mabel had portrayed it. “It was like a movie! We re-united two long lost brothers, Dipper. Mum can’t stay mad at that story of love!”

There was a long pause after her words, the other three letting it all sink in. Mabel didn’t seem to notice, too busy flicking through her scrap book happily. Then the laughter started, a gruff sound that started from Stan and spread across the room until they were all feeling a little less stressed and a whole lot brighter about the whole ordeal.

“Well, there we go. Mabel the counsellor strikes again.” Stan ruffled her hair as he passed her. He ignored the ‘It’s a talent’ that he got in response. “Right I should get to work if I’ve got you two to look after every holiday. Money to be made and all that.”

Ford handed Mabel her book back before standing up again with a soft muttered groan about his age. He rested his hands on his hips as Stan vanished from the room, his voice becoming parental. “So, _have_ you two finished packing?”

“No. We’ve got time.” Dipper shrugged one shoulder. “We don’t want to waste our last days here.”

“…Have you _started_ packing?”

“…No?”

“Then go on, get back up there. You’ll spend all night and day tomorrow trying to find things otherwise.” Ford shooed them off, sighing when they both didn’t move. Time to come clean, honesty seemed to be the best policy at the moment. “Come on kids, I think I need to go talk to Stan for a minute alone, that’s all.”

“Aww does that mean I don’t get to take a picture of the inevitable awkward sibling hug?” Mabel whined as Ford continued to push them towards the stairs.

“Not this time, maybe tomorrow, if you’re not stuck upstairs packing still.” Ford closed his eyes against the squeal this caused and the sudden disappearance of one of the bodies he’d been pushing as she sprinted full force back upstairs.

“I’m going to get mum to take photos of us all in matching sweaters!”

There was a beat of silence as Ford stopped pushing Dipper forward.

“She’s joking, right?”

“I’d like to hope so but Mabel doesn’t joke about things like that.” Dipper shook his head before following her up the stairs. “I’ll try and keep her occupied so she doesn’t sneak back down.”

“Thanks, Dipper.” Ford waited until the door closed before going to find Stan in the gift shop. The kids had known it was a lie as much as he had. They’d already decided that they weren’t opening the Mystery Shack today because it was the last day they could spend together before whatever fall out happened this evening. He couldn’t help but wonder how much the younger twins had grown when they let Stan take his leave with such a boldfaced lie, understanding the hidden meaning behind it all.

They’d let everything run down slowly over the last few days anyway, finding a lot of fun in each other’s company. They had the time, Stan could take a few days off to make the last week of the kids summer memorable. Or memorable in a good way vs the memories they might already have.

Ford was still in a gleeful disbelief that they’d even managed to get Mabel and Stan interested in playing D, D & more D one night! Though most nights they’d spent with less mathematical board games, ones that was intellectually stimulating enough to keep him and Dipper intrigued but entertaining enough to not let Stan or Mabel zone out, a radio or the tv humming in the background to fill any silences. Though that hadn’t been as much of a problem recently, the kids overtaking everything and telling them whatever new thing they’d done that day no matter how menial it sounded. Stan had also started to regale them with stories of his weirder customers, or what had been the worst exhibitions he had made that had somehow still made him money. Even Ford had started to open up, little tidbits of information of funny moments on the other side of the portal, never too much to go into details of anything dangerous he had gotten into, just some of the creatures he’d met along the way that were more harmless, the friends he’d made as he journeyed.

Even if the kids wouldn’t remember it, he couldn’t help but keep the image in his head of a peaceful evening, filing it away for a rainy day. He’d just finished his reminiscing of a particularly adventurous moment on the other side of the portal, but Stan had asked him a question and he’d finally zoned back into the present to realise that the kids had fallen asleep. Mabel was flopped on to her brother in peaceful slumber while his own brother stared at him, his eyes sparkling at the adventure he’d been entertaining him with, the board game laying forgotten between them.

_“Don’t leave me hanging, Sixer. What happened next?”_

Ford grinned. The movie night had been good as well, once Wendy and Soos had suggested some movies thinking about all of them cohesively instead of their individual interests. He’d even gotten interested in the latest detective show the kids and Stan had gotten hooked on and it had surprised him a few times with its sudden plot twists.

He made his way into the gift shop, watching as Stan just stood in the middle, looking round as if he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself.

“Stan?”

“Huh? What is it, Poindexter?”

Ford shrugged, coming forward. “The twins calm you down?”

“Yeah, a bit.” Stan smiled, looking round at everything as his smile fell. “There’s something we haven’t spoken about, Ford.”

“Hmm?” Ford’s eyebrows furrowed as Stan continued to look around at everything as if he was worried it would all vanish before his very eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Do I…do I need to pack all this stuff up?” Stan let the words fall quickly, taking a deep breath afterwards as he raised his arms ready. “I mean it’s perfectly OK. You wanted your name and your house back which is totally fair by the way. I just need to know what’s going on and-”

“Knucklehead, breathe, you’re going to pass out.” Ford chuckled as Stan took some more breaths. “I already told you not to pack up, didn’t I? When you tried to take down some of the displays. And tonight I’ll have my name back with the people that matter. I’m not entirely sure how we’re going to get _your_ name back though.”

“Yeah but that was for the family. You said the kids might ask questions if I packed up.” Stan pointed at him, his face suspicious as if he wasn’t quite believing what he was hearing.

“Yeah well…” Ford rubbed at the back of his hair, feeling embarrassed. “I would kind of miss all the weird junk you’ve made. The house would look too empty without it.”

“This isn’t a pity thing, is it?” Stan looked away as Ford went to argue. “I mean it Sixer, I don’t want to stay because of some weird feeling of guilt you have or something.”

“What? No, Stan, I like having you around.” Ford groaned out, shaking his head. “This week, with the twins. It’s been the most fun I’ve had in a long time. It’s been nice to just…stop working for a bit and have some fun.” He shrugged, his lips twitching. “Besides, it’s not like I can get a research grant just like that. I think I’ll need someone else to make the money here for a while longer yet. While I get back to some of my research downstairs.”

“Huh, you gonna freeload off me, Poindexter?”

Ford grinned at the raised eyebrow he was getting. “Maybe?”

Stan laughed, his hand coming out to steady him on the counter as he shook with it. “Out of everything I’d thought up, that wasn’t what I was expecting to hear.” He stood up straight, his expression serious. “On one condition, Sixer.”

“What’s that?” Ford tried to keep his tone light, even when his insides felt like they were shrivelling at whatever loomed over them suddenly.

“You come up out of that nerd lab of yours without fail every evening to eat dinner with me and get some sleep and relax every night. I’m not having you go cuckoo with stress and paranoia again.”

Ford relaxed again, the tenseness in the air lifting. “I think I can live with that.” He paused for a second, words resting on the tip of his tongue, unable to think of the best way to say them. “Stan, I have a condition as well.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Y-yeah. I was thinking about continuing some research on the lake soon.” He shifted, rubbing at the scruff on his chin. “I didn’t get far into it and I was wondering whether we could take the Stan O War out for a spin.” He looked over at Stan sheepishly. “I may have found the little boat when I was snooping ar-” He jumped as he felt himself get engulfed in a hug.

“You’re inviting me on a monster hunt?”

Ford stared over Stan’s shoulder, his arms stuck to his sides by the hug. “Wait, it’s not the Stan O War that’s made you happy, but the monster hunt? I thought you hated them because they’re dangerous? I was thinking you could fish or something…”

“Sixer, you’re inviting me on one of your adventures.” Stan pulled back, puffing up in excitement. “That’s the best news I’ve had in a while.”

“So you’re more confident about tonight?” Ford gave him a punch on the shoulder as he nodded.

“Heh, I guess I don’t have much to worry about, do I? I got you and the kids.” The words were light, set up as a statement but Ford could hear the hidden question in the lilt of his tone.

“Yeah. Yeah, you do.”

“High six?”

“High six.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you might have guessed, this was meant to be the story of how the rest of the family came to terms with things…but yeah I got sappy and forgot I’d never mentioned about what happens after summer is over for Stan/Ford so *throws* here we are?


	3. Family Ties - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘4 hours of travelling’ she said ‘get lots written’ she said.
> 
> Well technically I did - I got this mammoth thing done, it turned into 5000 words XD Just in case I gave their niece a name - following the ‘S’ route that the older Pines seem to have. 
> 
> Also thanks to writingsiren for pointing out some things that I hope I have now elaborated on for anyone else wondering the same :3

“Wow, Uncle Stan. I knew you were a trickster but this...”

The room went deathly silent as all eyes turned to Stan. They'd let the kids tell the story, hoping that way the adults would view it through their eyes but also to leave out a few details they might accidentally let slip that they hadn't in front of the kids the first time round.

Stan and Ford had sat next to one another on the sofa, the kids at their feet watching the TV until they had arrived. They'd tried to move the conversation to the table in the kitchen but the two new arrivals had opted to stand. The twins mother, Sandra stood, eyebrow raised and arms crossed as she waited for an explanation to the new found member of their family sitting across from her. The situation would have been amusing, both older twins feeling cowed under the gaze, like they were back at school and had just been caught doing something they shouldn't be.

As it was, it was just nerve-wracking and painfully stressful in its intensity.

Ford had locked hands with Stan when he felt more than saw the shake that went through him in fearful anticipation. He could almost see the dark cloud of those looming thoughts ebbing through the cracks. He had hoped to dissipate the gloom, the touch meant to strengthen and reassure as he made soothing circles with his thumb against the back of Stan’s hand.

_I’m here. I’ll always be here._

It had been for himself too. The tight hold that Stan gave him in return grounding him as he waited for the fallout that was inevitably going to happen. Letting him know they were in this together, whether they were to sink or swim.

Stan kept his view firmly locked on his own knees whilst the others turned to him. A motion that had started up halfway through the long tale the kids weaved for their parent and grandparent. He seemed to shrink in on himself, as if he was hoping the world would open up and swallow him whole and he wouldn't have to be here while they dredged up the past all over again. Only this time he had to contend with knowing that he'd spun so many half-truths that he wasn't sure if they'd believe any of the honest facts that had been mixed up in all the twisted little lies.

He'd gotten in touch with them, pretended to be Ford because he was so sure they wouldn't let him into their lives otherwise. He had just needed to know, needed to see that they were ok, he had thought about that so much over the years. To find out just how everyone had lived, if they had done everything they’d always wanted to do. To hope that he could be a part of that again. It had always meant so much to him.

It still did. It terrified him that this could be the end. That he’d lose it all over again.

He'd pretended to grieve over his own death, a death that he had painstakingly created because it was so much easier that way, there were less questions. A grifter goes missing, his car crashes? People forget as soon as they turn the page of the newspaper. A reclusive scientist who has intrigued an entire town with his eccentricity? His twin suddenly appearing in town suspiciously soon after the supposed disappearance?

He’d never have heard the end of it. Now in hindsight, maybe they wouldn’t stick around to hear the end of it.

Yes he had grieved, but not in the way they must have assumed. The lies he had spun to make up for his sudden declines in mental state, the quick thinking he’d had to do to keep them off his back. He had moved heaven and earth to get his brother home safe and sound. He'd always dissipated the guilt of his actions with the knowledge that they'd assume he'd gone insane if he said anything about Ford's actual whereabouts. They’d already feared for his mental health from some small remarks he’d made at his lowest moments. The times when he’d gotten himself trapped in a loop where every second had felt like it was slipping away from him like water through his fingers and all he had wanted-no, needed, was _more time_. And yet even then they'd cared enough to get him help when it was obvious he wasn't coping, even though he had locked them out, refused to let them help when he so desperately needed to tell someone. Even then, he still hadn't been able to tell them the truth about any of it. Even when he'd 'opened up' to them it had all been lie after lie that he could mask as the truth because the raw emotion behind it was real and tearing him apart from the inside out.

_Would they care anymore? Would they even try?_

The thought sent a shockwave tremor through him, the shake visible to everyone in the room.

“Stan?”

Stan dropped Ford’s hand like it was burning him, his concerned voice piercing through his thoughts as he stumbled to his feet. He knew he should take it as a sign that someone cared, but all he could feel was the warm contrast of Ford against the other occupants in the room. The words spoken rattling around his head like icicles. He felt like he was being abandoned again. “I-I need t-t-”

“Uncle Stan, wait-”

And with that he was gone, out of the room in a haze of panic that left the occupants left behind in a daze.

Shermie couldn’t decide if he was more shaken up or the kids, who looked like their role model had suddenly been shown in a stark new contrast; he wasn’t indestructible. He couldn’t take on every problem with a brash word and a sharp left hook. He never acted like this in front of the kids. He usually had enough energy to restrain the negative emotions when they were watching. It had been the same when his daughter had been tiny. Hell, he wouldn’t have let his niece see him at his worst if it wasn’t for the fact that Shermie himself had put his foot down and tried the forceful approach to Stan’s treatment. Stan had always made sure she saw him smiling, a notion he had watched spread when the twins were born. Though Shermie was sure they had been the spark, the catalyst that made that smile a little less forced and a little more genuine.

Now they’d all seen that light get extinguished before they’d had a chance to let everything sink in and figure it out together.

“Mum, how could you!”

Mabel’s foot hitting the ground broke them all out of the sullen moment that had encased them. She clung to Dipper’s arm, her eyes filling with tears as she glared at her. “Grunkle Stan did what he had to do to look after everyone!”

“I didn’t mean to-” Their mother sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. “I was shocked, that’s all. I can’t say I’m not hurt and he put you guys in danger when I trusted him to look after you!”

“No, he didn’t.” Dipper piped up, glancing between his mother and grandfather. “He always protected us even when we’d done something stupid. He fought zombies! With knuckledusters! All to make sure we didn’t get hurt.”

“You shouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place.”

“That was my fault. I did that. I didn’t mean to but I did.” Dipper’s voice rose in pitch and volume as he stared at his mother in disbelief. “You spent your childhood here, you filled my head with your adventures!”

“And you told us about the lovely things you could find in the forest too.” Mabel added in quickly, pointing at her brightly coloured sweater. “You knew this stuff existed.”

“I didn’t know anything.” Their mother’s shoulders sagged, the kids suddenly going quiet as they looked at one another. “They were just stories Uncle Stan had told _me_ , adventures we pretended to go on. I never saw anything and anything I did see I chalked up to an overactive imagination. But you guys liked the stories so much I just kept it up.” She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “I should go and talk to him.”

“No, I’ll go.” Shermie stopped her with a hand.

“Dad-”

“Nope, I have to sort this one. Besides-” He glanced at the kids with a smile, hoping to be reassuring. He ruffled their hair as he walked passed them. “There’s someone else here you need to get to know.”

There was another beat of silence before Dipper looked up hopefully. “So…does that mean you’re _not_ angry at Grunkle Stan?”

Sandra sighed again, still rubbing at her temples. “It’s a lot to take in, you two. I know that you must think it’s all very simple but I need some time to get my head around it.” She gave a weary smile at them. “But no, I’m not angry. I understand why he did it even if I’m sad that he did do it.”

“Does that mean we can stay here again?” Mabel’s voice was meek, still clinging to Dipper like a lifeline.

“Huh? After everything that’s happened you want to come back here again?”

“We don’t want to never see Grunkle Stan again.”

Their mother blinked at them both, obvious confusion on her face. “Wait. You think I’d never let you see him again? I’m concerned about you staying here when this was the epicentre of the apocalypse but that doesn’t mean he can’t visit us.”

The pair brightened up considerably. Mabel’s voice was still hushed but full of hope this time. “You mean it?”

She raised an eyebrow, obviously bemused. “He’s family. He might be an idiot but I’ve always known that really.” Her expression changed. “Is this line of thought from you guys or from him?”

The twins looked at each other before Dipper spoke. “Grunkle Stan. He was worried you’d take us away and never come back.”

“Of course he was.” She glanced at Ford for a moment, letting everything she knew sink in before she smiled at the kids. “Well then, do you two mind if I have some time alone with-” She paused for a second, unable to continue, it felt _wrong_ to call him that. “To get to know…”

“Grunkle Ford? Sure, we can do that.” Dipper grabbed Mabel’s hand, tugging her towards the doorway.

“And no running off to eavesdrop on your Grandad and Grunkle Stan’s conversation. They need some privacy too!”

 

* * *

 

Ford hadn’t said anything in the interim of Stan’s departure, letting everything wash over him as Stan tore away from the situation before it could hurt him further. He stared down at his hand, the warmth left from Stan’s hand dwindling with every passing second. He’d reassured Stan, kept his spirit up that everything would be ok when Stan seemed so sure everything was going to fall apart again.

And yet all he could do when it came to it was sit and watch as everything fell apart at the seams.

If he had been listening he might have realised the conversation had changed. But there was a ringing in his ears as he zoned in on his hand, time standing still in his small bubble of solitude.

He looked up only as he felt the sofa dip next to him, the pressure of another body next to him making him hope for a second that Stan had plucked up the courage to come back inside. He would have commended him if he had, he didn’t think he’d be able to if the circumstances were reversed.

Instead he met the shy, apologetic eyes of a woman who he only remembered as a tiny child.

“So, I guess _you’re_ my Uncle Ford?”

 

* * *

 

“Stan?”

Stan froze where he stood on the porch, his body locking up at the familiar voice. He tried to speak, his voice coming out as a small high pitch squeak. He gulped, clearing his throat before he tried again. “Y-yeah?”

“ _Stan_.”

Stan closed his eyes, a small tug of a smile on his lips. He could feel his brother’s presence behind him, the tone of voice that commanded because he was the big brother. He didn’t even have to tell him to turn around, he knew that’s what he was asking him to do. He’d come this far and it was up to Stan to make the rest of the leap. It was the same voice he’d used when he’d been trying to get him into therapy.

Odd really that last time that voice had sent his heart racing in a panic and yet this time the familiarity calmed his nerves. The small voice whispered placatingly in his head.

_He cares. He cares enough to be upset._

Stan slumped his shoulders, took a deep breath and turned to his brother, his face slipping into an emotionless mask. He ignored the soothing whispers the voice told him, scared to let his hopes up. “Yeah, Shermie?”

Shermie stared at him for a few moments, his gaze hawkish in a way that made Stan’s skin crawl.

“Look Shermie, just- just let it out, ok? Shout at me. Punch me. Whatever, just…just don’t stay angry at me.”

Stan tensed up as Shermie shifted, closing his eyes in anticipation of pain. When none came he risked opening one eye, his face slackening in shock at what he was seeing.

He’d never seen Shermie grin like that. Pure and unfiltered relief stretching his mouth wide. He almost looked like he was about to cry. “Shermie? I don’t…” _I don’t understand. What did I do?_

Shermie laughed, a bubble of emotion that did little to relax Stan’s startled reflexes. “Hey, easy, easy. Believe me, you can’t imagine how happy I am right now. I mean at first I thought you were _dead_ , Stanley.” He sat down on the seat, gesturing for Stan to follow suit. “And that hurt, god that hurt so much because I wasn’t there for you when you got kicked out. I couldn’t give you a place to stay or make anyone see reason…”

“S’not your fault.” Stan shrugged, leaning back into the seat. His heartbeat was slowing now, his confusion abating into a dark guilt. Of course his brother was happy to see him, he’d thought he was dead. “I made a mistake and I had to pay for that. But I don’t understand. You’ve realised I’m alive but I’ve always been right here? You should be catching up with Ford not me.”

Shermie blinked a few times at him before he laughed again, his humour still light-hearted and ignoring the gloom beside him. “Stan, I said _at first_ I thought you were dead. I mean I thought it was odd that Ford had gotten in touch after all those years of ignored phone calls and postcards. That had me suspicious, though I guess I brushed it under the carpet because I was worried. I thought he’d gotten himself in trouble and had had an epiphany that he needed to get back in touch.” He rested a hand on Stan’s hand, tapping at his fingers as he did so with a wry grin. “And then we met up in person. Did you really think I’d forget which brother had how many fingers?”

Stan looked down at their hands and then back up again, eyes wide. “Wait, you knew? But then why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Shermie’s face dropped, before he put a hand to his temples, giving himself a moment to formulate his next words. “Stan, you absolutely terrified me that’s why. I mean, I was so happy to see you and I was waiting for you to let me know in your own time. But then you kept pretending to be Stanford and talking about Stanley being dead and I just- I didn’t know whether you believed it or not. And I was so scared to ask what had happened to Ford because for you to have decided that you had died and not him…you would have probably have been involved.”

“Holy- you thought I was insane.” Stan sat back away from him, moving his hand out of his. “And what? That I’d killed Ford?”

Shermie blinked a few times at him, his face disbelieving before he started to laugh again. “Well, yeah. I mean, I did try and force you to get help.” He prodded Stan’s side a few times until he was batted away. “I never said I thought you’d killed Ford. But you did tell a story about meeting with Stanley again before he’d stormed off in anger and gotten into a car crash. I knew it wasn’t true but the guilt radiating off of you was genuine so I could only imagine what had actually happened.”

“Huh, well, I guess I wasn’t that great at hiding everything, was I?”

“No, I know you too well. But I can understand you not telling me. I mean I probably would have thought you were lying to me if you’d said Ford had been swallowed up by a portal in the basement.” Shermie’s grin grew impossibly wider as Stan barked out a laugh at his words. “You know Stan, you may not have told the truth and it was pretty obvious you hadn’t told us or the therapist everything but that didn’t matter to me at all, you know why?” He waited until Stan shook his head. “Because after you spoke to her you started asking us to call you Stan instead of Ford. You might have still said that ‘Stanley was dead’ but all I kept thinking at the time was ‘oh thank god, he’s giving himself a chance to live again’. ‘Cause you scared me before that, you scared me so much when it was obvious that you thought so little of yourself. I thought I was going to lose both my brothers again. I’d already lost you both once I didn’t want it to happen again.”

Stan nodded once before looking down at his hands as they clenched and unclenched into the material of his trousers. “So. You’re not angry at me?”

“Angry? You brought Ford back to us.” Shermie punched his arm jokingly but huffed when it didn’t get the response he was hoping for. “Stan, you made the best of a bad situation. You could have just run and left everything behind. But you didn’t. You chose to stay and get him back. And I’m not saying it was completely selfless, I’m sure you have a ton of excuses to everything I say because that’s the way you are. But you came here to help Ford all those years ago and you kept helping for 30 years. I’d say that’s pretty admirable.”

“Technically I got him stuck the other side of the portal. I couldn’t just up and leave him after that.” Stan pointed out, getting another harder punch for his efforts that made him glare and rub his arm. “I’m just saying you wouldn’t have lost him if I hadn’t done that. So I didn’t bring Ford back as much as rectify that.”

Shermie sighed and stood up with a groan. “Stan, I’d lost Ford years before that to his research. You’ve not only brought him back physically. I can tell that you’ve made up, you’ve made him remember family is important again.”

Stan couldn’t help the smile that spread as that sunk in.

Shermie didn’t hate him.

He wasn’t going to kick him to the curb.

“I think the kids had something to do with that.” Stan pointed out again as he stood up to follow him, his smile dwindling as the twins brought another unbidden thought to his head. “Sandra…she-”

“She just needs some time to get used to all this. It’s quite a lot to take in.” Shermie looked over his shoulder with a smile. “I hoped leaving her to get to know Ford would help with that.”

 

* * *

 

“So, I guess _you’re_ my Uncle Ford?”

Ford cleared his throat, already feeling the tell tale tickle of anxiety in his throat. “I guess so.” An awkward silence followed his words as he shifted beside her, unable to compute that this was the tiny child he had once seen his mother look after. She had grown so much and he’d missed all of it. There were always going to be a lot of ‘what ifs’; what if he hadn’t been in the portal for 30 years? What if Stan had got to him faster? But none of them compared to knowing that he had been in this dimension and _not_ visited his family while he could be around. He straightened his back, his thoughts changing. That may have been the case before but he’d changed now and that was what mattered. Nothing like the present to get to know people. “So, you kept our name.”

“Huh?”

Ford deflated slightly, he’d hoped to just steer the conversation into less unknown waters but he had opened his mouth and started in the middle of a conversation instead of the beginning. It happened, when he had formed an idea in his head and just assumed the other person knew where he was going with his words. “Sorry, just curious about you. I meant to ask you about your life and stuff but my mouth ran ahead of me. Though I guess you’re more curious about me.”

“You’re Dipper in a nutshell.” Sandra sat back, looking him over with a soft smile. “Right down to the embarrassed babbling afterwards.”

Ford laughed. “Well that’s a compliment for me. You should be proud of him, he’s a great kid. He’s helped a lot of people this summer.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, still analysing him. “The question was very Mabel though. She likes to throw you a curve ball every so often too.”

“Another compliment.” Ford smiled, relaxing more himself. “You still didn’t answer the question.”

“Why I kept the name Pines?” Sandra shrugged. “Uncle Stan didn’t have any kids, as far as I knew Stanley had died before having any so I was the only kid of the next Pines generation. I wanted to make sure the Pines continued on.” She grinned. “Happy coincidence that I also continued the family tradition of twins.”

“Huh, logical, I like it.” Ford nodded, already feeling at home with the girl. The resemblance to the kids made it easier; Mabel’s warm smile, Dipper’s curious eyes. His smile shifted though as he glanced back to the doorway. “So…about Stan.”

Sandra bit her lip. “I get it, I do. It just hurts, you know? I think I need some time to get my head around everything. It feels like I don’t know him at all.”

“You do.” Ford tried to laugh when she glanced back at him but it came out echoing and fake. “He may have taken my name but his mannerisms are the same as I remember from when we were kids.”

She hummed thoughtfully before staring at him, gauging his reaction. “You weren’t too impressed with him when you met up again after 30 years though, were you? From the way the kids worded it anyway.”

Ford winced, ruffling his hair as he went. “No I wasn’t. I knew the consequences of opening the rift back up and what it could cause. But a lot of it was still resentment at having gone through the portal in the first place.” He looked back over to her. “But I forgave him in the end, and he forgave me.”

“How?”

“Huh?” Ford felt tense again, wondering where she was going with this.

She carried on observing him quietly. “How did you forgive each other? What happened? The kids didn’t say anything so I assume they don’t know.”

The tension left Ford in a swoop that left his stomach feeling empty. She was just curious, and a tad concerned by the frown on her face. He connected the dots, a small amount of pride towards this new found family member sparking. They hadn’t told the kids, partially because Stan had forbidden it but also because Ford hadn’t felt the need to share what he’d found out with them and she had guessed correctly.

If they hadn’t told the kids then it was because they were protecting them.

“Let’s just say I got a close look at what Stan had been doing with his life while I wasn’t around, and I wasn’t proud to see what I’d done to him.” He waited for a response but the words felt wrong on his tongue. “Actually no, that all happened, yes but it wasn’t until we actually talked to each other and apologised that we finally pushed everything behind us.” He smiled at her. “And I’m glad, I haven’t been this comfortable in a long time. It’s great to be back, and it’s great to have family back.”

Sandra sat for a moment before nodding. “Well if you two can forgive each other – and believe me, I’ve heard all about the age old dispute and I think both of you have a part to play in that. But if you can forgive each other then anyone can.”

Ford’s gaze grew more hopeful. “Does that mean Stan’s forgiven?”

“I’m still disappointed, but he’s family, and you don’t give up on family.” Sandra blinked a few times before she gave a shocked laugh. She pulled Ford in for a hug, still amused when he stared at her; happy and perplexed but returning the hug all the same.

“I don’t…?”

“Just realised Uncle Stan taught me that motto.” She continued to chuckle, shaking her head. “Never give up on your family. He used to say it if me and Dad had an argument.” She waited for Ford to say something before glancing down and noting the guilty expression on his face. She tried not to sigh again, shaking her head. She already had to deal with almost teenage twins and now she had to deal with these two as well? “The family is altogether now, better late than never.”

“Better late than never…” Ford hummed back, still dejected.

“Hey, that was a positive.” She flicked him on the head, getting a startled noise in return. “You might have never made up, you might have blah blah blah, who cares? You’re both here now. That’s what matters. He’s forgiven you and you’ve forgiven him. Now it’s time to forgive yourselves.” She shook her head endearingly. “Honestly, it’s like I’ve gained two more kids.”

Ford pulled her tighter into the hug. “You’re good at this.”

“I have experience.”

“It would seem you do. So how about you tell me about your adventures while I wasn’t around?”

“Hmm~ Only if you tell me about yours.”

 

* * *

 

Stan wrung his hands together as he followed Shermie back towards the living room. Every step felt like another step closer to the cliff edge that he would need to make a leap of faith from and pray that he swam when he hit the water.

It felt like he was already sinking like a stone.

And then a comforting sound of familiar laughter broke through the dark cloud marring his thoughts. The weirdness of hearing both his nieces and brothers laughter in the same room when they’d never have been able to before made his heart soar with new found energy.

It didn’t matter if she hated him. She’d gotten to meet Ford, that was enough.

“Did he really?”

“Yeah! I watched Dad literally chase him around the hospital room because he refused to let go of the twins. You should have heard Dad’s grumbles. He’d just become a grandad and was being denied hugs.”

Shermie put a finger to his lips and a hand round Stan’s arm as he went to walk into the room, ducking back just so they could see the pair chatting.

They were too engrossed to notice anyway.

“Have the kids always been so different? Mabel’s so creative and Dipper’s so smart.”

“Yeah, they’ve had very different interests for a long time but they’ve always stuck together like glue. Must be a twin thing, I thought they’d start to split up when they realised they were so different but they never did. They just worked their differences around one another.” She grinned, proudly. “I’m sure if you sneak around in here you’ll find some of their old stuff. Every time we visited Stan would receive a scrapbook from Mabel with everything they had done, including Dipper’s schoolwork. I found a few of them when I helped tidy up one time and he got all gruff with me and pretended he’d just forgotten to throw them away.”

“He didn’t focus on Mabel?”

“What do you mean?”

Ford shrugged. “Just when I first got here I thought they were very alike. I thought he might have tried to make sure she got more encouragement.”

She shook her head. “No, Stan made time for both of them, he can be a bit hard on Dipper but it’s his way of toughening him up. He always told him he was ‘gonna make the family proud with his smarts’. As for Mabel, he never made her feel like her newest creative outlet was a dumb idea.”

Stan looked over at Shermie in an attempt to get his attention. As happy as he was that she seemed to be talking about him without anger in her voice, this was getting embarrassing. Shermie caught on quickly, smirking at him playfully before coughing loudly.

The two on the sofa jumped, both looking round with identical looks that screamed they’d been caught doing something they shouldn’t. But Stan suddenly grew uneasy ass everything went quiet, the laughter petering away into silence.

Stan cleared his throat. “So…uhh…” He took a deep breath, opting to ignore everything in favour of closing off the emotions screaming at him. “When are you next coming to visit?”

“Well, I do need to get to know Uncle Ford more.” Sandra patted his leg before standing up and walking over to Stan. Her face grew parental, a strict look that was obviously used when the kids got into trouble. “And you and I need to sit down and talk. You need to open up- honestly this time. No hiding behind the kids so they can tell the story for you.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She nodded at his chagrined expression before smiling. “Good. Then that’s settled. We’ll be back soon.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Well I have two small balls of energy waiting upstairs who are probably not ready for their summer to end and a very long drive home. So I’d best get them ready. I’ll leave you guys to it, unless you want to help pack up, Dad?”

“Pfft.” Shermie rolled his eyes, shooing her away. “Of course not. I have a baby brother to noogie.”

“Wait, what? Sher-No! Shermie!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo~ Finally, I hope this was enjoyable~ ♥ thanks for your patience ^^


	4. What Was Left Unsaid - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’ve gotten hooked on my other fic and so I thought instead of trying to force myself back to this one and ruining it, I’d have a look at what I’d written so far and decided I’d cut this one into parts as well because what I’d written so far actually seemed like a good place to leave it :3
> 
> BIG WARNING - This is the fic people were asking for where Stan/Ford have their heart to heart and all that jazz so it’s going to go through all those things that got implied before and make them tangible horrible things so I don’t want anyone getting hurt reading this. It’s gonna get dark but it’s gonna be full of comfort and fluff too ♥

It was quiet in the shack, the sound of kids’ laughter feeling like a distant memory as Ford slipped through the house. It was sad in an odd way. Disappointing to wake up and find the house empty after weeks of constant interruptions and adventures caused by an excitable pair of pre-teens who had a whole world to explore. He should be happy that he could get back to his work but he instead found himself gravitating more to glancing at the small items they’d left behind with a soft smile. Bits and pieces him and Stan would roll their eyes at and get packaged ready to send back to them or little trinkets Mabel had hidden around the house for them because she’d wanted to make presents but it was boring just to _give_ them to people. Plus it gave them more reasons to ring up and check on the kids so Ford gave her a mental round of applause when he realised she had planned everything out.

But although the house was quieter, and there was a sad air to it, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. The kids may be gone but it was with the promise of them visiting again, the promise of being allowed to visit them at the holidays.

Besides he had Stan.

Stan, who had the mystery shack back up and running now the apocalypse was over. So though the house was quiet now as the sun started to set, the house was almost always filled with tourists throughout the day ready and willing to spend their money on whatever new attraction had been thought up. Ford had started to help out with those, it was quite fun to be able to use his supernatural knowledge for something other than actual monster hunting. The thought that what he had learned could be used for pure enjoyment instead of self-defence.

Stan, who had already used him once in tricking his tourists into thinking he could teleport. Ford still wasn't sure how happy he was about helping out with that. Part of him found it shameful to trick gullible people like that. However, another part of him was filled with the childish glee that they had once used to pull pranks with.

Stan, who seemed to have vanished entirely at this particular moment.

Ford frowned as he stood in the middle of the darkening living room. He’d started to do as Stan asked and came up once he heard the house was devoid of tourists most days. Already once or twice he’d been startled back to reality as Stan grabbed his chair and tilted it back or something equally distracting in an attempt to grab his attention and remind him there was food upstairs waiting for him. But he was getting better at not pushing himself passed his limits and taking breaks. It was a learning curve, and like all learning it took time and dedication.

And both of them were happy to put the work in.

Ford smiled as he clutched his latest research notes in his hands. As much as he came up to placate Stan’s wrath about staying healthy, Stan was making adjustments too. They’d sit and chat about each other’s days while they ate but mostly Stan would ask about Ford’s latest research, giving him a sounding board to voice his latest findings. It was helpful just to talk about it sometimes, especially if he was stuck and a fresh pair of eyes that didn’t know the science behind it was an added bonus he had never even considered before. Stan would ask him simple little questions, things that he hadn’t even considered as he over-complicated matters; small seemingly insignificant details that would slip in as the last pieces of the giant puzzle Ford had almost completed. He had noticed a similar pattern when he disassembled the portal. Some of the machinery wasn’t as his designs had put them, Stan making minor adjustments as he went to make the thing run smoother, more efficiently.

But now when Ford wanted to see Stan’s face light up as he told him his contribution the day before had cracked the code of his latest puzzle he couldn’t find him. He wasn’t lounging in the living room as was his usual haunt after a hard day’s work. He wasn’t in the kitchen and there was no smell of homemade cooking that Ford had gotten used to tugging him out of his study with little encouragement. He’d checked everywhere on the ground floor and found himself at the stairs, staring up quizzically and listening for any noises to give him an inkling to where his brother could be.

“Stan?”

Ford frowned. Nothing answered back to his shout. He shuffled up the stairs, pausing again as he got to the top. “Stan? You up here?”

A small tingle of worry slipped down his spine when he was met again with silence. He knew it was irrational, but the nightmares hadn’t quite abated yet and he’d found himself knocking on Stan’s door in the middle of the night on more than one occasion. They still hadn’t spoken about everything, Ford respecting Stan’s space and waiting for him to be the one to broach the subject first. He wasn’t going to force anything out of him even if the half knowledge he had of the situation was eating at him. His brain supplying hypothetical situations to the parts he had minimal knowledge of.

Ford shook off the worry. He’d heard Stan moving around from his study in the basement not half an hour ago, so he couldn’t be far. He took off down the hallway slowly, peeking into the rooms that he passed, still yelling Stan’s name as he went in the hopes he’d get some gruff half-annoyed response back soon enough.

It wasn’t until he passed the bathroom doorway that he froze, the word catching in his throat as all the air left his lungs in a torrent of ice. The sound of running water seemed to reach him through a filter, the loud ringing in his ears eclipsing it. Stan hadn’t noticed him in the doorway at all, even with all of his shouting and stomping around, a clear warning sign in Ford’s eyes that something was wrong. But it wasn’t that that caused nauseating dread to pool deep in his stomach.

Stan was stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his eyes locked intently on a small razor he was twirling slowly in his hand.

“Stan!” Ford reacted without thinking, darting forward and slapping the offending instrument out of his hand before turning Stan towards him, his hands tight around his shoulders. “What on earth are you doing?” His eyes flickered around Stan’s face, trying to discern exactly what he had been thinking in that moment.

Stan blinked at him dazedly, his face an open book of perplexity as he put his hands up submissively in front of him, putting some distance between them. “Ok…what did I do?”

“Huh?” Ford’s rubbed a hand over his chest, there was a substantial pain building that felt like his heart had completely stopped beating for a minute only to switch to suddenly beating 10 times as fast as normal as he jumped into action. “What do you mean?” Ford took a deep breath, staring disbelievingly at Stan. “You can’t be seriously wondering that, can you?”

“Well, I’ve obviously done something wrong. I heard your shouting vaguely from downstairs but I couldn’t make out the words.” Stan looked at him, one eyebrow raised at his expression. He waited for Ford to elaborate, irritation starting to show through when Ford still continued to look at him like he should _know_ what he did wrong. “Look, I didn’t mean to ignore you, Poindexter, got a bit distracted, that’s all. So, please, what have I done to warrant you barrelling in here like that?”

“You didn’t…I was just looking for you and…” Ford’s eyes found the razor on the floor, gulping as he tried to get the words out, his tongue thick and heavy at the flashes of memories that sparked behind his eyelids.

Stan followed his gaze, a dawning realisation taking over his features as his mind connected the dots. His eyes snapped back to Ford, his gaze scrutinising and sharp. “Jesus Christ, Ford, I was _shaving,_ that’s all.” He pulled himself out of Ford’s grasp, groaning as he bent down to pick the razor up from the floor and throw it in the sink before turning off the faucet with more force than was necessary. “I didn’t have a chance this morning and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have a chance tomorrow either.” He rolled his eyes, drying his hands on a towel before turning back to Ford. His defensive exasperation deflated at the wide eyed, panicked expression still marring his features. He gave a half smile, trying to be reassuring. “Poindexter, I’m fine. I promise you.”

“You weren’t shaving.”

“Hmm?” Stan crossed his arms, waiting patiently. He didn’t want to be here, that much was obvious from his expression, but he owed Ford at least some patience so he stayed put, letting him formulate his sentence without hurrying.

Ford cleared his throat. “You weren’t shaving. You had that look in your eye. The one I saw-” _in your memories. In your imagination where you went where I couldn’t follow._ His mind supplied but the words died in his throat.

Stan rubbed a hand over his face, sighing endearingly. This was going to be a long conversation, he could tell. “OK, I lied, kind of.” He put up a hand quickly before Ford interrupted, his hand still at his face, his eyes tired and not up for an argument. “Wait, wait, listen, please. This is kind of hard to explain, OK?” He waited with bated breath until Ford nodded, a hiss of air slipping out as he tried to put it into words. “Look, OK, on my bad days a long time ago I considered it. There was a part of me that thought that it was the best option. You know that already obviously…” He ran a hand up and down his arm self-consciously. “Anyway even when you’re in a better frame of mind, that voice…it doesn’t really go away. There’s still a whisper, it’s just easier to ignore, until the next bad day anyway.”

“Stan…”

“Let me finish, jeez, Sixer.” Stan chuckled, though there was a hollow edge to it as he glanced up at Ford’s distressed expression. He smiled proudly, his words coming out in a torrent that he wasn’t even sure was comprehendible once he really started going. “If you’ll let me finish, I was about to say that when I picked up the razor to shave I realised the voice had _gone_. Not-not even a whisper. I hadn’t noticed before but I suddenly realised I hadn’t heard it in a while and I got a bit swept up in the moment, that’s all. I was trying to figure it out- I knew something was different since the weirdmaggedon. But maybe that’s because there were a lot of other things on my mi-” He was still chortling through the words, a slightly hysterical bubble of relief, still smiling away when Ford cut him off with an engulfing hug, his head resting on his shoulder so he couldn’t see his expression. “Ford?”

“That’s, that’s great, Stan. I’m really…” Ford’s voice went quiet, already muffled enough by Stan’s shoulder that Stan had to concentrate to hear him, before he started to laugh too, a giddy sound that vibrated through them both. “I don’t know what you say in this situation.”

Stan let out a huff of air, sinking into the hug more as he calmed down. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Guess I overreacted.”

“No.” Stan sighed, returning the hug, a clap to the back for good measure. “But I think as much as I hate to even consider it, that conversation I promised is well overdue.”

“Not if you’re not ready, S-”

“You’re stressing out, Sixer, over _me_ of all people, and that’s not OK.”

Ford pushed Stan away so that he was holding on to his shoulders and locked eyes with him, his gaze fiercely protective. “You’re my brother, you’re always going to worry me.”

Stan snorted. “The feelings mutual.” He pushed Ford off him playfully before stretching languidly and walking towards the door. “But I know your head and you’ll be trying to connect the pieces of the puzzle you can’t solve. Which would drive you crazy on its own, by the way, without the stupid sense of guilt you seem to be holding on to.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Yeah it is.” Stan held the door open for Ford to go passed him, a smile still on his face.

“I forgave you as soon as I found out you coming to get me was a reality.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: OK sorry I don’t even know how to go about this note ^^; I am just worried about the things in this and whether I went too far and I just want to say it might not be the same for everyone and I hope it doesn’t seem unrealistic to anyone or too much or…I’m just sorry if you didn’t like this one ♥ I just really needed to write this. 
> 
> I’ll go back to writing Stan as a demon for a bit now, he’s much sassier ;p
> 
> Love you all, stay safe,
> 
> Imp x


	5. What Was Left Unsaid - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I finished this last night but passed out before I could re-read it and post @.@ I’m at work right now so let’s hope no one notices how sleepy I am XD

“So what do you want to know?”

Ford choked on the water than Stan had passed to him before sitting on the sofa next to him. It was funny really how Stan could turn it all around. He’d been procrastinating in the kitchen for long enough that Ford had almost bottled it and bolted downstairs back into his study. He’d grumbled about not having made dinner, asked Ford if he wanted to sit at the table or not, asked if he wanted a drink or not, his hands awkwardly moving with him like Ford was an uninvited house guest Stan hadn’t quite been ready for and was now being as polite as possible with considering the circumstances.

And yet after all that Stan had sat down next to him with a small thump of air and just asked him what he wanted to know as if he had just been asking about Stan’s day and not about anything and everything he had been through since they’d first been separated.

It didn’t matter that Ford could see through the façade; the eyes that wouldn’t quite lock onto his, the fingers playing with a fraying edge on the sofa even as his face stayed confident and nonchalant about the whole affair. It had still shocked him into silence, his brain drawing a blank on how best to broach the subject. He knew he’d have to play this carefully.

Too flippant to go with Stan’s behaviour would look like he didn’t care when he did. He cared _so much_ that it felt like a physical pain in his chest. He wanted to know every detail, yes, that was true, but not as much as he wanted to make sure that Stan was _OK_. Even if he hadn’t been before when they were younger, that he was OK now was at least something he felt he could make a possibility if it wasn’t already true.

But he also knew if he went into this too seriously then there was every possibility that Stan would lock up. Because making a joke out of it all made it less real, less tangible. And Ford couldn’t blame him for that.

It probably kept the nightmares at bay.

He’d done it himself from time to time, in his own way. When he had been flung through the portal his journal had become a lifeline. With every word that was written in its pages he could seal away another moment in his life, tear it from his memory just a little bit and pretend it was a story he had written to pass the time.

A fairy tale that had little basis on reality.

This wasn’t helping him though as he studied Stan’s body language. The more Ford stayed quiet and thoughtful, the more Stan seemed to pull into himself, distancing himself from the situation. Ford took a quick sip of his drink before turning away from Stan to put it on the table, his voice carrying as he looked away. He found it helped sometimes to break eye contact in circumstances such as these, when painful truths were being delved into. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

There was a snort behind him before a foot came out and kicked at his leg good-humouredly making him jump. “As ready as I’ll ever be so just get on with it, Sixer.” There was a sigh as Ford turned back slowly, his eyebrow raised at Stan’s now restlessly jiggling leg. Stan raised his eyebrows back at him, mirroring his disbelieving expression, faking ignorance to the movement as if Ford was seeing things. “What? All I’m worried about right now is getting this over with so I can get some grub on the go.”

Ford snorted at his offhand remark. He could play that game though if that’s what he wanted, settling back into the seat. “We could go to the diner afterwards instead of cooking. You and the kids seemed to like it there.”

“And what money do you propose to treat me with?”

“Yours.” Ford grinned widely as Stan blinked at him for a few moments, obviously shocked before huffing in amusement under his breath.

“Good answer.” Stan ruffled Ford’s hair, getting his hand swatted away quickly and a grumble of reproach. His face turned serious though as he looked away from his brother, running a hand through his own hair. “I appreciate the thought but…I’m not sure we’ll- I’ll be up for being social after this conversation.”

Ford’s smile stuck to his face. Of course he hadn’t thought that one through and suddenly the mere thought of dealing with other people, acting polite, smiling widely and keeping everything hidden away, after listening to Stan bear his soul to him left a rotten taste in his mouth. He nodded once, chewing on his thoughts as they hit an awkward silence again, Stan’s face holding a tinge of shame at the confession. Ford’s voice was hesitant as he spoke next, a small understanding smile on his face as Stan looked back at him. “Take out and a movie?”

Stan gave a half smile back, his shoulders relaxing from where they’d started to hunch in around himself, protectively. “Yeah…take out and an unwind sounds a lot better.” He sat back, mirroring Ford’s relaxed position, grinning teasingly. “So now that you’re done procrastinating. You thought of your first question yet?”

“I was not-!” Ford grumbled under his breath when Stan started to chuckle next to him. He took a deep breath, he had a lot of questions. Too many that they were jumbling in his head, vying for top position so much that he couldn’t hold on to one train of thought for long. “Cant…can’t you just start at the beginning?” The words were out before he could stop them but he was relieved really. As bad as the start of this tale would be, he was sure the middle parts, which he was most interested in, would be far worse. And he didn’t want to launch into them as much as Stan had seemed prepared for it.

“Sixer, we’ll be here all night.”

“I know.” Ford sighed. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy and Stan was starting to get uncomfortable, obviously having hoped to omit some things purely because Ford didn’t ask about them. Ironic really that he wanted hide some of his memories, considering Ford knew the recollections that Bill had handpicked to torment him.

He wondered if it was his failed attempts at making money.

“Uhm…” Ford cast around with his eyes, trying to break the steadily growing atmosphere. “I just meant, what did you do after…”

Stan didn’t need him to finish his question. Both of them had started to just leave that memory alone, they didn’t bring it up around the other. They weren’t forgetting it, or in denial of its existence. It just seemed like running over old arguments that held no sway anymore between them. “I hung around for a little while.”

Ford’s head snapped back to him, a crick in his neck at the movement making Stan wince. “You were still around?”

“Only for a little while. I mean the first night I did think about leaving straight away. I drove hard and fast, I wasn’t really thinking or caring for that matter, until I almost crashed my car.” He gave a self-depreciating chuckle, wincing a little at the memory like it was a stupid blip and not something in any way serious. He didn’t notice Ford pale beside him, or the shift closer so that there was a point of contact between them. He reciprocated the touch subconsciously, moving himself closer. “Went straight through a red light and had to swerve a car coming the other way. Anyway I stopped pretty soon after that, I needed a moment to calm down, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.”

“Well I would have killed you if you’d continued driving after that.”

Stan laughed again at Ford’s words. “Poindexter, if you think that would have been a bad decision on my part, you are not ready for the rest of this story. I make bad decisions, that’s like- part of my personality. Can’t seem to help myself.”

“It’s in your blood.” Ford grinned at Stan’s befuddled, almost hurt, expression. “Can’t exactly say my decisions have been all that good all the time, can I?” He used the moment to shift closer still to Stan, glad when it went unnoticed or rejected. He was mostly getting ready to grab Stan’s hand if needed, or wrap an arm around him.

Or that’s what he told himself anyway.

As Stan said, the story was only going to go downhill from here.

“So, you stayed in Glass Shard Bay?”

“Only for a few days.” Stan shook off the fact that Ford had admitted he was wrong for once, deciding it was best not to prod at that. He gave Ford a sheepish look, his mouth opening and closing a few times as if he wasn’t quite sure how to go about responding. “I may have hung around the Stan’O’War for a bit. Guess I was kind of hoping that you’d…” He winced, biting his lip, letting the sentence fall into the ether. “Doesn’t matter, I left after a few days, didn’t really have a place in mind so I just drove for a bit.”

Ford felt the tell-tale lurch of guilt, his insides seemingly deserting him.

Of course Stan had hoped that Ford would realise his mistake and come to find him. He’d stayed at the only other place he knew they shared in the hopes that Ford would at least come visit it while he was upset. Had probably run through every single outcome and tried to come up with an apology, a response to everything.

But Ford had never gone back.

The simple thought of the boat had been like a thorn twisting in his side every time it had reared its head. He couldn’t think about the boat without thinking about Stanley, and thinking about Stanley at that point in his life had left the bitter sting of betrayal in its wake, a painful concoction that had eclipsed any feelings of worry or concern he might have had otherwise for his brother making his own way into the world.

He had seen a lot of it now though and if Stan was going to shrug it off then so could he, at least for the moment. His thoughts flipped back to his foray through Stan’s memories, trying to discern what had come first in his wander.

The bitter, sharp feeling of ice tugged at his fingers and toes even though the house was warm and welcoming.

“Did you get lost?” Ford’s words slipped out without thought, watching as Stan grew perplexed at his question, his mind visibly trying to catch up to wherever Ford had gotten to. “I just saw you sleeping in your car, that’s all.”

Stan stared at him for a moment, his eyes hawkish as he studied him. “Ford, you say that like it wasn’t a normal situation. Don’t need to get lost to realise you’re crashing in the car for the night, or week.”

Ford shook his head, his stomach lurching again but he squashed the feeling in favour of getting through to Stan. “No, sorry, this was different. You were clearly _freezing_ and there was nothing but snow as far as the eye could see. I mean I could _feel_ how cold it was even though it was a memory! It was sub-zero!”

“ _Oh,_ the snowstorm.” Stan’s eyes widened as the pieces fell into place. “Right, that.”

“The snowstorm?”

“Yeah.” Stan rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I drove and drove as far as I could. I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going and I didn’t feel like stopping for a while. I sold what I could to get food and petrol, not sure anyone would really hire a high school drop-out and feeling a little bit of…well, a lot of self-pity.” His mouth tweaked into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But then as I was driving I got caught up in a snowstorm because I wasn’t paying attention to the radio. I had enough petrol to get to the next town over, I know that much, but then the snow got too bad to continue driving through…Well, I could have made it if I could have afforded winter tyres probably.”

“Even then it’s better not to drive.” Ford spoke up quickly, gaze scolding at him. “Better to wait it out.” He stopped, his voice questioning and hesitant again. “You had enough food and stuff to wait it out, right?”

“Yeah I had enough food and petrol to get to the next town, I said that. And I rationed the food in case anything like this happened anyway, better to make the food last than have to worry about it.” Stan grinned, proud of his younger self’s thought process. “So I curled up with my warmest clothes. It got nice and cosy after a little while.” He looked over as Ford bit his lip, obviously wanting to interject but not knowing whether he should. “Alright, it wasn’t cosy but hey it really made me appreciate the heating whenever I got to stay in a motel. Even this creaky old place where the wind whistles through in the winter feels nice and toasty. Or it did.” Stan smiled, still trying to make a joke out of it. “Feeling the cold a lot more now, what with getting old and all.”

“Why didn’t you put your car heating on?” The words slipped out even as he knew the answer.

Stan decided not to get too annoyed at him, the look on Ford’s face showing how stupid he knew the question was now that he had voiced it. “Waste of energy.”

“R-right.”

“Ford, I already told you about the guilt thing. If I’d been smart I would have tried to get a job straight away or, you know gone straight to hustling but instead I tried to put as much distance between us as I could and got myself stuck in the middle of nowhere in a snowstorm.” Stan laughed. “Not exactly like you expected that to happen.”

“No, but-”

“No buts.” Stan prodded him in the side, cutting off his words. “What? The domino effect? You didn’t throw me out, Dad did.” He put a hand over Ford’s mouth like they were kids as he opened it to argue. “What’s your next question?”

“Where’d you go from there?” Ford resigned himself, muttering against Stan’s hand, dropping his shoulders in a slump of defeat. He could argue, but all it would do was make this conversation stretch or give Stan chance to sidle away from his more pressing questions.

Although the question was muffled, Stan nodded, understanding and relief etched across his face. “I waited for the storm to pass, got into the nearest town and started job-hunting. I was right by the way – no one was looking for a high school drop out that had no permanent place of address for a job. They all thought I was a run away.” Stan huffed in annoyance at the memory, the people he had almost punched or screamed at in sadness when they’d told him to just go home. “So I saved up what little money I had left and went into a bar-”

“Really, Stan?” Ford couldn’t hide the obvious disapproval, though he was way off the mark in his thought process. Stan, however, thought they were still on the same wave length, his next words locking Ford in place.

“Don’t talk to me like that. There are worse ways to earn money, Sixer.”

“Wait, what?”

“Hustling?” Stan blinked at him, a small twitch developing. “What? Did you think I just went to drown my sorrows and somehow got a big break? No, I bought a drink so they wouldn’t kick me out and hustled the snooker tables for the night. Made quite a bit too over the next few days, a different bar every night, bought a couple of rounds to keep people sweet. But it wasn’t long before I realised it was time to up and leave before things turned violent, people were starting to realise what I was up to.”

“How on- this is just after you left! How did they let you buy drinks?”

“Fake ID, had one before I left. I never showed you because I knew you wouldn’t approve. That and all you need is confidence. You act like a shady teenager they’ll get suspicious. Act like you do this all the time and they’re less likely to question the ID when you show it.” Stan found himself turning towards Ford completely, eyes finding his in a look of sincerity. “I did try to get a proper job, Ford. I promise you that. It was always at the back of my head that I could use some of my tricks to get some money but I wanted to show I could actually make it at something. I never meant it to be an ongoing thing either but the next town also wasn’t hiring and it just became a loop.” He laughed again, shaking his head at the memories, his gaze drifting away from Ford again.

Ford was almost sad he couldn’t see them this time alongside him. The memories that weren’t so bad. The ones Bill had locked away because they didn’t give the lurching response the others had. The ones that Stan hadn’t tried to shield himself from. Stan continued to talk as Ford half listened.

“-I mean, once I had money I thought maybe I could be a salesman so I kept coming up with ideas that just never paid off. And then I’d get run out of town with little money to my name and start hustling again. By that point my cv hadn’t exactly improved for people to hire me.”

Ford nodded along, surprised but determined not to show it. He’d always assumed that Stan had been fine with the less than moral lifestyle he had led, that he hadn’t actually considered other forms of work. Or if he had, that he had given up quickly, not tried at every point before falling back into bad habits. Habits that Ford couldn’t deny had kept him alive.

Of course he hadn’t given up, Stan was all about hard work, he was always just hoping for his big break at the same time. A gambler and a treasure hunter all rolled into one.

Ford coughed as he realised Stan was watching him, waiting for his next question. He didn’t have to cast around much to remember the next memory he had seen. It had lulled him into a false sense of security, Stan’s laughter leading him to believe it would be calmer than the first. But now it was just wording the question. “You…went to prison?” Stan’s face shut down immediately, all trace of mirth vanishing in seconds. Ford rose up to placate quickly, heart thudding at the sudden change. “It’s alright, never mind, it was just the next memory I saw, and you seemed to be having fu-” Ford winced. “-Pretending to have fun, I should say with the other- other-”

“Which time?”

“I’m sorry?” Ford scrutinised Stan’s face, the same observing expression on Stan’s face as they eyed each other quietly.

Stan licked his lips, his mouth dry, hating that he might have Ford’s disapproving gaze on him again. “Which time in prison do you mean, Ford?”

Ford almost physically flinched back as another unbidden memory returned- Stan curled up in the dark in a cell, shaking, eyes open and filled with horror.

_“So, new kid. What are you in for?”_

_“…Protecting myself.”_

 “T-the first one? I think. I-I don’t know.” Ford raised an eyebrow, trying to smile through the concern that had risen in his throat but it came out fake and unnatural. It was obvious from Stan’s reaction which memory he didn’t want to talk about. “W-why? How many times have you been in prison?”

“Three times before we met up again.” Stan relaxed, the hard edge slipping from his face. “Well, one time I was in for fraud, I got caught in a scam- never again, believe me. I learnt the hard way on that one. But that stint wasn’t too bad or too long and I don’t remember running through that memory myself when…” He shook himself, looking over at Ford apologetically. “Sorry, you probably saw everything in order, didn’t you? For me all the memories were jumbled about so I never knew what I’d find next.”

Ford’s anger flared, much like it had weeks ago when they’d left the mindscape and he’d been face to face with Bill again. “Son of a- If I ever catch that dream demon in our dimension again, I swear I’ll-” His anger was making it hard to speak, so he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. _How dare he_? Not only did he force Stan to relive his worst memories, he pulled them all out of sync so that Stan could never sit back and get ready for what he knew would happen next. By mixing it all up, he would never be prepared even though they were his own memories.

“Hey, calm down. I thought you got all your anger out on him when we beat him back to whatever hell he came from?”

“It’ll never be enough.” Ford grumbled, the red mist lifting at the appreciation on Stan’s face at the sentiment. He cleared his throat again, casting his mind around. “So…was the fraud your first charge?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, I guess it wasn’t actually.” Stan frowned, counting it out in his head. “No, the first stint was while I was still hustling actually. I got caught out by a group of men in their twenties. I’d been doing well at the table though so they invited me for some poker. Which I obviously cheated at.” Stan grimaced, as he recalled it. “Another good learning experience. The guys were drunk, I thought they thought I was an alright kid and had jokingly decided on another game to prove that I couldn’t be good at everything. Unfortunately, they weren’t as drunk as I thought and had actually realised that I’d been hustling them at the table. They bought a few drinks, I got a bit drunk myself. I was a bit more of a lightweight than I thought, didn’t drink that much so that I could scam the really drunk people in the bar.”

“They didn’t slip you something, did they?” Ford’s thoughts rose unbidden, Stan’s earlier comments about making money filtering into his head and making him want to reach forward and hold Stan.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know everything.

Not really.

He’d let Stan decide though.

“Hmm? No, they just got me drunk and then followed me after I left the bar. They beat me black and blue.” Stan gave a short burst of nervous laughter, no humour in it at all. “I did fight back, got a few good hits in there. I mean I didn’t box for nothing, you know? But I couldn’t take on a whole group of people while inebriated.” He shook his head at the thought, his face showing his frustration and shame at himself but he felt Ford’s hand give his a squeeze and the dark thoughts lifted. Of course he couldn’t have taken them on, even if he had been sober it would have probably been a challenge. “Anyway, before they could do anything worse a policeman spotted us. The ones who could, darted off so I was left to deal with the policeman, very obviously underage and very tipsy. And two of the guys I’d managed to knock the feet out from under came together and made out that I’d come at them and started the whole incident. I didn’t spend long in prison, it was more of a warning. But it took a while for those bruises to heal…maybe a bit longer for me to trust my instincts on who I could hustle.”

“You went back to hustling?”

“What else could I do? Limited options and I still shied away from other things that people did to earn money on the streets. I’m just glad my car was where I had left it before the sorry mess had started. Otherwise push might have become shove. That car was my lifeline, a place I could always sleep in.”

The room went quiet again, an awkward silence filling the air as both men went back to their thoughts. Ford let the information trickle through into his cataloguing system whereas Stan just seemed caught up in the memories again.

Stan shifted in his seat, awkward and restless. He wanted to get this over with but he knew he was getting into deeper waters here. He gave a sigh, deciding to rip off the plaster quickly.

“Come on then, Poindexter. What’s next?”

Ford gulped, taking a fumbling sip of his water before he continued, his mouth parched at the sudden knowledge of where they were headed next. Stan had indirectly promised to talk about this after his first nightmare but now he was here, he could almost feel the animosity pulsing off of Stan in waves. He just had to take the plunge and get the question out before he lost the courage to.

“What- what happened to get you locked in the trunk of a car?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Don’t kill me for cutting it here? Please? XD


	6. What Was Left Unsaid - Part 3/END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Last Chapter! Enjoy~ As usual I’m going to warn about dark themes. ♥

 “What happened when I got locked in the trunk?”

Ford couldn’t help the wince when Stan repeated his words, mulling over each one as if it was painful to think about. There was a resigned air about him, like he had known this would happen but had still hoped he was wrong. “Would you rather I…” _didn’t ask?_ Ford felt shame bubble up as his brain rejected the notion before he could even finish it. He needed to know about this, it was driving him crazy. The nightmares of being too slow- of watching Stan get dragged away into that god awful black hole of a car, of listening to his pleas and begs for help, crawled back into his head, his breathing starting to hitch at the thoughts.

He needed to know so that he could make sure nothing like it happened again.

But he also knew that Stan probably wanted to forget all about it and the disgrace of possibly pushing him passed his limits was leaving Ford’s mind in a perpetual warzone.

Ask and hurt Stan.

Ignore it and live with the nightmares.

“I really wish you hadn’t seen that, Ford.”

Ford glanced over at Stan, his thoughts dissipating into a background hum as Stan took over the conversation again. He nodded mutely as Stan watched him carefully. There was no point voicing an argument that he didn’t truly believe in himself or voicing his agreement that he wished he hadn’t seen it. Either seemed too much in this situation, one perhaps implying that it hadn’t been that bad, whereas the other might give Stan more reason not to carry on.

Stan sighed when Ford stayed silent, waiting for him. “This- I’m going to have to start quite a bit back from the actual moment, OK? It’s quite a long…long story.” He seemed to shrink in on himself, his shoulders hunching in protectively as he thought where to begin.

Ford nodded again, words on the tip of his tongue. _I can imagine. Who throws someone in the trunk of a car?_ He couldn’t let the words out though; let Stan take his own pace with this. Interruptions seemed counter-productive.

He also just felt like anything and everything he could say in this moment would be so completely and utterly _wrong_. Instead he took the moment to retake Stan’s hand, rubbing a soothing circle to the back of it as he waited for Stan to continue, hoping it would ease the tension he was starting to feel rolling off of him in waves.

Stan blinked, giving Ford’s hand a squeeze, a small smile on his face at the sentiment. He took a deep breath, letting it hiss out of him in a sigh that dragged his lips down into a frown as he pulled open the memories he’d bolted away for years and had only revisited in quickly squashed nightmares or Bill’s foray through his head. “Right…I guess it’s actually best to start where we just left off. In my first visit to prison.” He spoke the words like it was a visit to a local landmark and not incarceration, keeping his tone light-hearted like they had with the kids. “I made some…acquaintances there. At the time I might have even called them friends.” His mouth set in a small dark line at the thought. “I left there, never thinking I’d see them again and not really caring all that much even if they had been some alright guys. But…a few months later? Maybe a year, I wasn’t really keeping track all that much. It was only when our birthday cropped up that I’d realise another year had passed…” He felt Ford’s hand lock around his, the grip almost painful. He lost his train of thought, peeking over at his brother in worry. What had he said to spark that? “Sixer?”

“ _Happy Birthday, Sixer. I hope the start to your day was better than mine_.”

“Ford? Come on, we haven’t even gotten anywhere into this yet. You OK?”

“Y- _es_.” Ford’s voice cracked and he coughed quickly to clear it, loosening his grip as he did so. “Something from the…mindscape that’s all. Sorry. I’m fine.”

“…Alright then.” Stan side-eyed him for a moment before shrugging. Obviously they would have to discuss things that he wasn’t entirely aware of, or couldn’t recall, from the mindscape. He’d been chased by so many visions of his ‘brother’ that he wasn’t entirely sure what he had said or done to the real one when he came through after him. “Anyway, I got into another fight.” He held his free hand up in mock defence when Ford disapprovingly glared at him. At least there was a semblance of normality to the conversation, he thought with a wry grin. “Hey, not my fault this time? Just some guys jumped me in an alley, hoping I’d have some money on me. Fat chance.” He gave a snort of derision. “There was only three of them and I was completely sober so they didn’t last long.” He puffed up slightly with pride at the memory. “So I pickpocketed them and went to go on my way when someone started clapping from the entrance to the alleyway.”

Ford couldn’t help the shiver that went down his spine. He knew where all of this was leading but even if he hadn’t he thought he might still have a sense of foreboding at the image. Who applauds that kind of situation?

“Turns out two of the guys I’d met in prison had been let out and were from around the area. Said they could use someone with skills like mine in their gang. They’d even put a good word into the boss as they knew me from before.”

“Stan, you didn’t…”

“No, I didn’t.” Stan shook his head before pausing, tilting it as if confused. “Well, mostly. I didn’t join any gangs, I’m not that much of an idiot. I might have hustled but there was no way I was going to make it to the age of thirty in some gang.” He still had a ponderous look on his face. “I did help them out though. See there was an underground fighting ring in the area that their boss often put bets on. And it seemed like a good way to make money without being affiliated with anyone, you know? So the two of them left me with an address and a time for the next big meet up and said that if I’d changed my mind about joining them then their boss would be there.” His face changed, a wistful smile on his face. “I was in my element, Ford. I wish I’d been able to take boxing further because I became a crowd favourite in that ring! Made quite a bit of cash as well at it.”

Ford hated it as he watched Stan’s face change emotions rapidly. One moment there was hope and pride, where things must have finally been starting to look up for him before flicking through disappointment and back into a dark expression, a range of anger and fear, whatever hopes he’d had at the time crushed.

“Unfortunately a lot of that money came from one man.” Stan gulped, not even noticing he had started to shake until Ford’s hand gripped his tighter again, the soothing motions returning. He let it strengthen him. “The boss that I was talking about. He bet on me on my first fight, won a lot of money himself and gave me a cut of it. Whenever I took to the ring he’d always bet on me unless he’d asked me to take a fall beforehand.” He rubbed at his shoulder, obviously self-conscious of it all, a protective gesture that would have morphed into crossed arms if Ford would let go of his hand. “…I didn’t like him. There was something about the way he looked at me, spoke to me that just made everything feel _wrong_ but I needed the money so I always did what he asked and took the fall… I didn’t want to get on his bad side. I saw how he treated his crew, he didn’t take kindly to failure.”

“But you never…?”

“No, I always refused to join him properly.” Stan nodded, before shuddering. “If anything that seemed to make him…happier? It was like I was a challenge for him.” He closed his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing deeply as he let out a long breath before he stared at his brother, locking eyes with him. He hated the next words that came out of his mouth but he felt Ford needed to know what he was getting at. He tried to be as blunt as possible even if his mind refused to let him just say everything straight. If he did it made it all the more real. He guessed he shouldn’t care anymore, more than 30 years had passed, but the irrational side of his brain did.

“Ford, he’d taken a liking to me.”

_“Don’t worry. He’s not going to kill you. Well not right away anyway. He wants to have some fun with you first.”_

Ford’s heart stuttered, his jaw slackening into a silent ‘o’ as the horrific puzzle came together in a stark reality he really didn’t want it to. He felt naïve for not noticing it sooner, the wording Stan had been using before. It should have concerned him as soon as he had said he hadn’t been angry at his refusals. _Probably thought he was playing hard to get,_ his mind darkly supplied for him, his stomach rebelling at the notion.

“Yeah…yeah that look about sums it up. I did not want to be in any way indebted to that kind of guy.” Stan nodded as Ford’s face drained of colour.

“I don’t know if I want to know what happened.”

Stan blinked at Ford’s quiet confession, his voice pained at the sudden implications that Stan bolted upright at, quick to reassure. “Hey, hey, you know how the story ends, right?” He made sure to meet Ford’s gaze again, holding it to show he wasn’t lying. “It may not be the best ending but I got away before anything…happened.” His own words caught then, the familiar nightmares rising up unbidden. The trunk had been terrifying and always would be but not as much as his imagination when it pulled forth images of him not escaping.

Not as much as the terror of what could await him at the end of the journey.

His mouth ached at the mere thought of what he had done to free himself from that potential situation.

“S-s-so.” He broke the moment, shaking himself and trying his best to act flippant again, his defence mechanism closing in. “I carried on for a few months, before it started to get obvious that soon enough he wasn’t going to take no for an answer anymore. I thought about just packing up and leaving, it wasn’t like I had any obligations to stay…”

Ford waited for a moment as Stan’s sentence died out before he couldn’t take it any longer, his mind feeling like it was caught in a whirlwind of emotions. “Why didn’t you?”

“Cause I’m too good for my own good?” Stan grumbled, an angry scowl on his face. “There were other gangs trying to poach me by that point. Wanted me to go into his gang but play the double agent and report back to them. I said no but I learnt a lot from them by asking why. Why they’d want me to do that? Why their gangs were better than his? I was good at playing the interested party, conning them where they stood.” His eyes sparkled with malice, his obvious loathing of all of them showing through. “And a few of them once I refused them spat some choice words at me, told me about the last boy the boss had taken under his wing.” He felt Ford shudder through their joined grasp but did his best to ignore it. “It confirmed my suspicions, put it that way. And at my next match I suddenly realised he was there, right next to the boss. The look in his eyes…” Stan cringed at the face that he could never truly forget. “It was like he’d given up all hope and yet was optimistic all at the same time.”

“Hoping you’d take his place.” The words slipped out before Ford could hold them back, his mind ticking over as Stan spoke.

“Yeah, probably.” Stan again ignored the sentiment and the guilt that crossed Ford’s face. “I almost lost that fight, wasn’t paying enough attention. But if I didn’t want to end up like that, it was time to get out of dodge.” He winced, wondering what kind of fallout his next words would garner from his brother. “Only…I decided to take him with me.”

“You did what?!”

“I couldn’t just leave him there!” Stan pulled his hand away, standing up in the same motion before he started to pace. “What? Should I have? Just saved myself and left him to live out the life I was scared of? I couldn’t do that! I had the chance to leave and so could he.” He paused in his pacing, his eyes wide and worried. “Would you really have rathered I’d just looked after myself?”

“No...I didn’t mean…I don’t know what I meant.” Ford growled, rubbing his head. It all hurt too much to think about. On one hand it was now painfully obvious what had happened; Stan had not only up and left but he had taken one of this man’s prized ‘possessions’ with him, on the other, his stomach revolted at another person being thought of as a possession that had no choice in the matter of their own life. There was a weird surge of pride mingled with fear at his brother’s actions, the courage it must have taken. He wondered if it would have kept Stan awake at night if he hadn’t gone back to help the man. “That was a very…brave way of thinking, I’m just seeing things in hindsight I think.”

“Ehh. It was going to be dramatic either way. If we’d gotten away to freedom then it would have been a great victory of saving someone, as it was…” Stan rubbed at his face, his shoulders slumping, drained and exhausted after his outburst.

“Sit back down?”

“Yeah.” Stan sighed, flopping back down, his shoulder resting against Ford’s as he let himself relax. “As it was, they caught up to us.” He laughed bitterly. “I know I should be happy for him, after all, I’d done everything I could to get him away from them. But when he fled and left me to fend for myself…” Ford felt like stone beneath him, cold and unyielding. “It’s not his fault, he’s probably still running. I wonder if he ever thinks about what happened to me.” He mused, not noticing the arm that was creeping hesitantly round his shoulder. “Anyway they caught up, tied me up and threw me in the trunk of their car. You know what happens after that, right?”

“I think so.” Ford’s words had a slight hiss to them, being forced through tightly gritted teeth.

“You think so?” Stan looked up at him, his face confused. “Wait, where were you in the memory?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Were you in the trunk with me?” Stan gave a small noise of relief as Ford shook his head. “Oh, thank god. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“I was outside of it, not sure how that works.” Ford was still finding it hard to force his mouth open. “I saw the men leave their car to go to some pub in the middle of nowhere and then watched you…get out.” _Fall out, escape._ None of the words felt powerful enough for what he’d witnessed. “You were covered in blood.”

“Right. The guys weren’t good hostage takers. They’d tied my hands in front of me instead of behind. I chewed through the bindings but they were sharp, tore my gums to ribbons as well my wrists. It didn’t help that we were moving as well, I was terrified when they stopped the car and I hadn’t ripped through them entirely. I’d hoped that when they opened the trunk I’d catch them by surprise and jump them. Luckily they were cocky and thought they could waste some time so I knew that was my only chance to get out. Almost lost a tooth in my haste. Then I tried to pick the lock but my hands were shaking too much and it was so _dark_.” Stan felt his heart rate pick up, his words falling out in a rush. He swallowed back the rising panic the moment brought up as he’d felt his precious seconds slip away from him. “So I just resorted to kicking it with as much force as I had. I kept at it, not even caring about the racket I was making until I finally heard what will probably always be one of my favourite sounds.” He gave a small hysterical chuckle. “And then I fell out because none of my limbs would support my weight after being cramped up for so long.”

Ford nodded against him, remembering that part. It had all seemed strangely surreal in the half gloom before the lights of the nearby tavern had illuminated his brother and he’d come to a jarring realisation that this was very much reality.

“Anyway, that’s the end of that tale. Hopefully, now you know everything, you’ll sleep better at night.”

“I’m not so sure.” Ford muttered, his mind laughing ironically at him that he’d been better off not knowing. “Did you ever…see any of them again?”

The question hadn’t even meant that much, just something to keep the ball rolling. He had expected, even hoped that Stan would shake his head, with some weird little joke about them never being able to find him again.

He hadn’t expected the chill that swept over them both, his brother’s muscles rigid against his arm.

“Next question.”

“Oh, uh...” Ford filed this information away, his mind drawing a blank at what to ask next as it ran through the possibilities of what that implied.

Well, not so much a blank as a glaring neon warning sign that he couldn’t ask his last question.

“Come on, Ford. It’s obvious something else is still rattling around in that head of yours. Spill.”

“I can’t.”

“What?” Stan sat up, pulling away from his brother as his eyebrows furrowed again, confused and frustrated. “What do you mean, you can’t? They’re my memories. All I can say is no.”

“Yeah but I only saw one more memory before our- the portal incident.” He gulped as Stan nodded, still waiting. “Y-you were in prison again?” He phrased it as a question, his hesitance obvious. “But obviously we don’t have to talk about that! So, how about we order that takeaway-”

“All roads lead to Rome, right?” Stan muttered under his breath with a huff as Ford blinked owlishly at him in confusion, his mouth snapping shut as Stan spoke. “The two lead to the same place, Ford. Yes I found myself caught up with them again and yes, it landed me in prison again.”

_“So, new kid. What are you in for?”_

_“…Protecting myself.”_

The words rattled round Ford’s head again and he pulled Stan back towards him, overlooking the small squeak of surprise the action caused. “Let’s leave it at that then.” He felt Stan relax against him, visibly relieved that he’d dropped that memory in a way that made Ford’s heart pang in pain but thankfully not curiosity.

He didn’t think he’d ever be that inquisitive.

“So, you ready for that food? I’m starving.” Ford let his mouth run away with him, not really thinking anything other than to comfort; to let them both slip into an easier lighter conversation that he was sure Stan was ready for.

“You don’t have any questions about after the portal?”

Ford could recite what had happened after the portal; Stan had wasted thirty years of his life trying to get him back, he didn’t need to know the details. The details he’d already gotten tonight, had exhausted him beyond belief. He couldn’t say that though and as he was looking round for a suitable response he caught sight of a framed photo in pride of place next to his glass of water. He gave a smile, catching Stan off guard. “I do have one actually.”

“Yeah?”

Ford grinned as Stan’s suspicious look, picking up the picture of two familiar faces, his mind casting back to two small bundles of joy that had lit up Stan’s face the first time he had laid eyes on them.

“Did you ever let Shermie get a look in when the twins were born?”

The budding smile that he got in return for his question was a reward all in itself.

 

* * *

 

Hours later and the two of them found themselves oddly relaxed and calm still sitting on the sofa. They’d gotten their food not long after they’d both been laughing at Stan almost running around the hospital room to keep the twins in his hands for a few moments longer. Neither of them mentioned that there were tears mixed up in the humour, both of them letting out the emotion that the conversation had held over them. Stan sobered up afterwards though, the conversation going to what Ford had seen in the mindscape and then on to what had happened once he’d gone through the portal. Ford had tried to put it off but it was only fair and as he reassured Stan that he wasn’t allowed to feel guilty about the things that had happened to him, that it was his inquisitive nature that had gotten him into more than one terrible situation once he was through there and not Stan, he started to loosen up on his own deeply held guilt.

Both of them had been a catalyst to the others situation and the consequences could all go back to that one moment, there were lots of bumps and hitches along the way that they had done themselves.

They would both feel guilt for a long time, he knew, things took a long time to heal over but there was a mutual understanding between them now.

There would always be scars there but at least as time passed they would stop being so painful.

The talk had gone to lighter times then, Ford going back to his lighter stories that he had started before, adventures where he had found out fascinating titbits about the other dimensions inhabitants. Stan had added to this with stories of the twins as they grew up, of their niece as a young girl exploring Gravity Falls with her parents in tow.

And now with the thrum of the TV in front of them, they had settled into a much more comfortable silence, one that spoke volumes of the weight those old secrets and worries had held over them when they had been locked away from prying eyes. As the night wore on Ford felt his eyes drooping, the hum of the TV sending him into a soft stupor until Stan shook him.

“Come on, Sixer, I think it’s time we both got some rest.”

Ford frowned at the words, his eyes already closed. He refused to open them, comfortable as he was and although Stan’s words were clear he hadn’t made to get up or move Ford away from where his head had rested against Stan’s shoulder. He felt like a small child again and if he hadn’t been so exhausted he might have felt shameful at his small slurred confession. “I don’t wanna.”

“You don’t want rest? Ford, you’re literally falling asleep on me.”

Ford’s slack hand suddenly gripped onto Stan, his heart thudding enough to wake him up from his stupor as Stan shifted under him, his shoulder vibrating with soft chuckles. The words still came out in a sleepy daze that stopped his brain to mouth filter. “I don’t want to go to bed.”

Stan stopped moving, looking down at him. He had to admit, he wasn’t much looking forward to being alone in his room after everything that had been brought up tonight. As much as the conversation had grown warmer it was clear as day to both of them that the panic of their memories could hold sway in the darkness. He had only prodded Ford to get up because as much as he was nervous about his own nightmares he had wanted to make sure Ford had gotten a good night’s sleep. “You want to stay here? I can grab you a blanket.” He decided to feign ignorance, not wanting to have got the wrong end of the stick.

“No, just-” Ford’s eyebrows furrowed sleepily, his eyes drooping enough to make Stan chuckle more even as he glared. “Just-” He growled in tired frustration before leaning back on Stan’s shoulder, curling in on himself. “Can we stay like this for a bit longer?”

Stan smiled, remembering hearing similar words when they were kids. When one of them had a nightmare and needed comfort but didn’t want to ask for too much.

“Sure.” Stan settled down, letting his head fall on Ford’s head, the word muffled by his hair. He didn’t care that they’d both ache in the morning, or even if there was an awkward air later as well. At the moment they both still needed comfort and he wasn’t about to pass up the moment after all those years without.

“Night, Poindexter.”

He gave a happy sigh, his eyes closing as he let all the tension drain out of him, smiling at the small slurred mumble below that he got as a response.

“G’night, Kn’ckle-ed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: THE END~ 
> 
> Woooo~ That was tough~ I hope it was what everyone hoped for. I don’t think I’ll go into more details than this, sorry. If you really want to know more feel free to ask and I’ll answer.  
> Also I had no idea what else to put other than ‘all roads lead to rome’ but I couldn’t see Stan saying it and didn’t know what else to put ^^; urgh also I wrote this until 1am XD
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this journey with me ♥ Please take a look at my other fic ‘Demonic Conman’ if you haven’t already, otherwise maybe I’ll see you with whatever I write next. I’ve still got a mystery trio fic to write + a winter idea I’ve had buzzing around for a while. :3
> 
> Until next time, lovelies,  
> Imp x


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